


moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one

by ameliorates



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliorates/pseuds/ameliorates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>all of time and space; everywhere and anywhere; every star that ever was. and she chooses him. - a short drabble for the love story that time rewrote.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one

They pay their debts to each other via invitations.

He is grateful for the red hair, tossed daringly around; the eyebrows raised in a childish wickedness that suggests trouble; the clenched fist and the clutched hand and the refusal to ever call a place home. To her, that suggests a type of permanence that terrifies her even more than lurking monsters in creeping shadows.

And so he invites her to cut ties and forget the very word home and make the universe their kingdom, with their crowns made from stolen stars plucked from their favourite view of the night sky. She is grateful for the lack of English village and endless days and being told that she should be a proper lady with a proper job. 

(As if proper was something she ever aspired to be.)

Her invitations are the subtle, sultry kind: a twist of her hips, a pout of her lips and a slight slip in her expression as she dances across the boundries that she knows he's set in his mind. She invites him to smudge her lipstick and tangle his fingers in her hair and trace her freckled skin in the patterns of the constellations that he loves nearly as dearly as her. She invites him to love her but oh, _that's a challenge_ and that's a challenge that only a fool could partake in. But he is a fool. A fumbling fool. A fumbling fool with a stolen heart, lost somewhere between apples with carved faces and the word _gotcha_.

 _Got you,_ she mumbles, her mouth resting at the nape of his neck as he sucks at her collarbone.

And she has, she has, she has. She can only run as fast as her fragile human body can take her and the idea of painting planets into existence onto the blank canvas he gifts to her is terrifying, is impossible. Infinity frightens her. Home frightens her. But this, the soft ache and inescapable need to be near him, that does not. 

It terrifies him.

It terrifies him how both his hearts have become so tangled up in the life of one impossible, mad, magnificent woman. The whole of the universe, the blood stains on his hands, the weight of destroyed worlds on his shoulders and all she lets him focus on is her mouth on his. I'm a murderer, he wants to say. And she'll kiss him. I stole you away, he wants to say. And she'll kiss him. I'll lose you, he wants to say. And she'll pause, refusing to want to ever accept that. 

And so she'll kiss him.


End file.
